A Little Retribution
by redsandman99
Summary: Dean finds himself alone with Mark, who hasn't forgotten about The Shield putting him through a table. His form of payback isn't what Dean sees coming.


**A/N: A present for Max, who I hope enjoys this immensely.**

...

"Dean jesus christ are you coming or not?" Seth poked his head into the arena's shower area, the irritation written clear as day on his face.

"Just give me five minutes," Dean replied. He had put the water on so hot that it was hard to breathe from the steam. His skin was nearly scalded from the heat but it felt good on his muscles.

"You said that ten minutes ago!" Seth whined. He slapped a palm against the wall and glared at Dean. "Roman's about ready to come in here and kill you if you don't hurry up."

"Just go on without me." Dean wasn't in the mood to be rushed. He wasn't really even in the mood to be around Seth and Roman. Yes he had come back to help them against the Wyatts but that didn't mean he wasn't still mad at them. He had gotten taken out by Bray and what did he get for those troubles? Accusations that he had just left them. Accusations that he hadn't wanted to help them. Accusations that bothered him even more than he wanted to admit.

"Dean-"

"Just go. I'll catch up." Dean wasn't even sure if he wanted to do that. He just said it in hopes Seth would leave him be. It worked, much to his relief. Seth left without a word and Dean stayed in the shower for another fifteen minutes, killing time to make sure his teammates were actually gone. When he got out he quickly dried himself off and threw on his clothes. It did occur to him then that most of the other wrestlers would be gone and he lacked a vehicle to actually go to the hotel and catch up with anyone. "Fuuuck." He slapped a hand to his forehead. He really needed to start thinking things through better. Now he was either going to have to be at the mercy at one of the production crew or catch a cab.

Dean went back to the locker room, singing under his breath since he expected to be alone. At first he thought he was just that. He went over to his bag and started to grab it when a small grunt caught his attention. He looked over and saw that Mark was there. The older man hadn't noticed him yet. He had one hand placed on the wall and he was doubled over, his free hand rubbing his knee gingerly. He had changed into his street clothes, which was a sight so strange that Dean nearly laughed at it. He managed to bite down the urge and instead just watched Mark. Earlier he had returned as he always did for WrestleMania season and had looked as badass as ever. He looked like he had been channeling his Ministry of Darkness days and stabbing Brock's hand with the pen had just topped it all off. Everyone else backstage had freaked out about it but Dean had actually loved it. The sudden burst of violence had nearly gotten him hard. Yet now the man that had scared the shit out of everyone not even a few hours earlier didn't look so tough. He didn't look so scary. He looked beat up, wounded prime to be made an example out of.

"Well lookie here..." Dean sauntered over to him, smirking at the agitated look that washed over Mark's face upon hearing his voice. "Isn't it the old Deadman himself?" He slapped a hand on to Mark's shoulder. "Long time no see." His grin got bigger as Mark just glared at him. "What? Are you not happy about seeing me?" He looked down at Mark's leg and feigned concern. "Having problems again bud? That's not really good you didn't do much but walk around and stab our Lord of Pterdactyl Screams-which by the way was impressive."

Mark just glared at him.

"What?" Dean looked as innocent as possible. "What's the matter? Are you still mad about us putting you through the table? Because I-"

A large hand wrapped itself around Dean's throat and Dean found himself being slammed up against the wall violently. "Do you EVER stop talking?" Mark growled.

"No." Dean at least was honest. He tried to pry Mark's fingers off his throat to no avail.

Mark rolled his eyes. He was clearly damning himself for even asking that question. "You and your boys have a receipt coming for that."

"Oh yeah?" Dean smirked despite the fact that he had a very large and violent man pinning him down. Sense was not something he had a lot of. "We took you down the first time and we'll do it again." He licked his lips. "You're not the monster you used to be Deadman."

"Oh I've got plenty of monster left in me boy." Mark smirked and suddenly Dean started to feel uneasy. "And in case you didn't notice, your boys aren't here to save you like they did when you and I wrestled." Cold eyes were lighting up with a sadistic glee. "So why don't you make a move boy?" Mark put his face right up to Dean's and for once he actually grinned. "I dare you."

Being dared was all it took for Dean to bring his knee up to Mark's groin as hard as he could. Mark let him go and doubled over, leaving Dean to pounce on him and start wailing away with his fists. None of the blows had any real lasting effects. They began rolling all over the floor, struggling to get the best of each other. Dean almost had him at one point but Mark rolled them back over and pinned him down. "What are you gonna do Deadman?" Dean tried to wiggle free but he wasn't going anywhere. "You don't have the-"

Mark's lips around his, silencing him with a searing kiss. The move did what little else could do: baffle Dean into silence and submission. He kissed him back, unable to really comprehend the sudden twist in the situation. But he ran with it anyway. Mark's body on his, their violent tussle, the still fresh memory of Mark having the balls to stab a man in any fashion on national TV-the last one was a bit sick to get off on really but Dean was a sick guy. Always had been and always would be.

"Come here." Mark's hand found Dean's hair and he yanked Dean up to his knees. "Fucking crazy bitch." He yanked on Dean's hair, eliciting a low hiss from the younger man. "I should knock your teeth down your throat."

"I'd talk extra then just to annoy you more sweetheart." To save himself from actually having that happen, Dean unbuttoned Mark's jeans and yanked them and his boxers down. He wrapped his hand around the base of the shaft and took just the head, sucking on it lightly while he teased the slit with his tongue. Mark groaned and thrusted his hips forward, forcing his cock the rest of the way into Dean's mouth. Dean choked and tried to jerk his head away. He wasn't Seth he didn't like that shit. But Mark tightened his hold on his hair and wouldn't let him go anywhere. Dean thought about biting but instead relaxed his throat and sucked as much as he could. Biting off the bastard's dick now wouldn't go on to do him any good.

Mark suddenly let go of Dean's head and ripped himself away from Dean's mouth. Dean got a quick gasp for air before having it driven right back out of him as he was slammed back first against the wall once more. Large hands ripped down his jeans and they, along with his boxers were tossed all the way across the room. Mark lifted him up and he hooked his legs around his waist, not entirely mindful of the bad hips the older man possessed. Large fingers pressed against his lips and Dean sucked on them for as long as he was allowed, lathering his tongue around them before Mark slipped them down between his legs and slipped them inside him.

"Fuck you don't you fucking have any lube?"

"You put me through a table and expect me to use lube?"

"That was like five years ago man!" Dean winced as Mark slipped another finger inside of him. "Forgive and forget man."

"It was ten months ago and I do neither of those things." Mark slipped his fingers out and positioned himself in between Dean's legs.

"You should this little anger issue has aged you-" The rest of Dean's insult was lost amid a sharp cry as Mark thrusted inside of him. It had been awhile since he had bottomed to anyone. Mark at least gave him a moment to adjust though he suspected it was more for himself than his benefit. "Fucking asshole," Dean hissed.

Mark's only response was to pull nearly all the way out and thrust back in sharply. Dean smashed his mouth to Mark's and tore at his shirt, ripping enough of it to rake his nails down his chest. The pain gave way to pleasure-or maybe the pleasure came from the pain Dean had no fucking clue-and he was soon panting, nearly begging for release.

"Fuck!" Dean pressed his mouth to Mark's shoulder and sank his teeth in so hard he drew blood. Mark cursed and ripped Dean's head off by the hair. The back of his head crashed against the wall so hard little stars appeared in front of his eyes. He laughed, laughed so hard it made his stomach hurt.

"You are a fucking weirdo you know that?" Mark shook his head as Dean kept laughing. He was the one initiating the kissing now. One of his hands wrapped around Dean's cock and stroked it in time to his thrusts. Dean moaned, torn between moving his hips to the thrusts and thrusting up into his hand. His head started to spin and he closed his eyes. He was moaning, moaning some form of words though fuck if he could understand himself.

Mark's strokes suddenly stopped and his hand wrapped around the base of Dean's cock. "You want to cum?" he asked as he squeezed him hard.

"The fuck you think?" Dean swallowed hard and tried to force Mark's hand to start moving once more. "Come on-"

"Beg."

"Fuck you I'm not begging."

"Then fuck you you're not cumming."

"What the fuck you fucking can't do that!"

"Watch me." Mark squeezed Dean's dick tighter, serving as an effective cock ring as he pounded into him harder.

"Fuck!" Dean wanted to just murder him. "Fine! Fine fucking let me cum just fucking let me cum."

"That's not begging." Mark was actually smiling now. The bastard.

"Please..." Dean spat the word out reluctantly.

"Please what?"

"Please let me cum you fucking god damn son of a bitch." Dean's face had turned red. He should have just bit Mark's dick off when he had the chance.

"Good boy." Mark's stroking resumed and with a gasp Dean came all over Mark's chest and stomach. Mark's released came almost immediately after and for a moment they were just still, panting for breath and taking in the realization of what just happened.

"So uh...was this really payback for putting you through a table?" Dean couldn't help but grin. "Because I gotta tell you I don't see the-ow!" Without warning Mark pulled out and unceremoniously let Dean drop down to the floor. "Fuuuck you mother fucker."

"Next time we're really going to have to do something about your mouth," Mark said as he fixed his clothes.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Next time?"

Mark smirked and reached down to give Dean's hair one last tug. "See ya around kid." With that he left the locker room, leaving Dean to try to figure out what the hell just happened.


End file.
